


the sweetness of the mouse on the snake's tongue

by lazulisong, verity



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Crack, I'm pretty drunk tbh, M/M, Multi, the end of days is upon y'all, wincon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-26 20:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5019295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazulisong/pseuds/lazulisong, https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>BASICALLY Q turns everybody into a coffee shop in the holodeck and I don't care that holodecks aren't in TOS or AOS, your mom isn't in TOS or AOS either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the sweetness of the mouse on the snake's tongue

**Author's Note:**

> There is no way to explain this fic except Wincon has basically a drunken fic writing contest and Verity and I entered it and did not actually win because unbelievably enough there are people with worse ideas than we do, but .... anyway, I promised to upload it so here we are, God help us.

DON'T LOOK AT US DON'T TALK TO US  
meg+verity

\---

TITLE: the sweetness of the mouse on the snake's tongue  
FANDOM: star trek. which continuity? who the fuck knows 

 

"I do not know why we are suddenly beverages," said Spock. "This is very illogical."

"No shit, Sherl--" Kirk's exclamation is swallowed by Spock, the granulated particles of his being drifting solute in the viscous solvent that presently constitutes the half-Vulcan. 

Bones floated in. Did Kirk sink into him? Kirk didn't know. Kirk felt at one with both of them. Cream and sweet. It was not entirely pleasant, but inevitable.

From deep inside them, a voice echoed, "You're so flavorful. You have a _great_ body." Kirk did not know it as his own until Bones said, "Dammit, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a glandular secretion."

Their container felt familiar: round and subject to the same physical transformations caused by the chill of space and the heat of re-entry. As the cup warmed, its molecules expanded. A cup. They were in a cup. Spock, brewed liquid; Kirk, earth's cane sweetness; Bones, pure grass-fed dairy.

"It's the holodeck," said a voice beneath them.

"Who's that," said Uhura. She was a bag. She was in the bag. She was delicate and strong. Her flavors were complex and complete without sugar or milk. She was an oolong. A tea.

They realized they were on a table, in a cup. Was the cup the Enterprise? Was the table--space? 

Sulu and Chekov were teas. There was no logic. It seemed illogical that a persons in different tracks would be the same sort of object. Bones and Spock, at least, were both liquids. Perhaps that was the clue. 

"It's a new experience, Spock," said Kirk. 

"The holodeck is immersing you in this experience," said the voice again. 

"That's the napkin," said Uhura. 

"I'm Wesley," said the napkin. "I know things. Nobody believes me. I know them."

"He's so cute," said a jovial, booming voice. A moment later, a face appeared above Kirk-Spock-Bones--no, not a face. An eye.

"I feel like I saw this Monty Python skit," said Scotty, a non-dairy creamer.

The cup lifted up, and the eye resolved into a nose. "Ahhh," said the voice again. "Much better than Stumptown. You never had to drink that, though."

"We are drinks," said Spock.

"And I'm Q," said the voice.

And then, as drinks, they were drunk. Kirk-Spock-Bones slipped between the lips of the all-powerful, galactic entity and vanished into his belly. 

The sweetness clung to Q's tongue when they were gone.


End file.
